


From Fairest Creatures

by Mycroffed



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A few hundred words each day, Agender Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Gen, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), I can't draw so I write, Ineffable Inktober, Inktober, Non-binary Ineffable Partners, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-08 23:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 13,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20843906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mycroffed/pseuds/Mycroffed
Summary: A collection of short stories about domestic ineffable partners.--~--Inspired byIneffable Inktober Prompts. Title taken from Shakespeare's Sonnet 1.





	1. I. Stars

**Author's Note:**

> A new year, a new ship! I will continue my other stories at some point, but for now, this is all I have the inspiration to write. Hopefully, this'll ease me back into writing every day.

“Angel?” Crowley had arrived at the bookstore a little later than he’d hoped. He’d wanted to pick something up for Aziraphale, but since he just couldn’t find what he’d been looking for, he had gotten some food. “_Angel_?!”

“Up here!” His voice was distant and a little muffled, which was enough to make Crowley realise that Aziraphale was probably up on the roof. A little confused as to why the angel was up there in the first place, he started to climb the stairs, up and up and up he went, until he found his boyfriend sitting on a towel, right next to a telescope.

“You’re watching the stars?” He asked, after a quick kiss pressed to the angel’s temple. “That’s new, isn’t it?”

“I was bored and you were a little late, which is absolutely fine, my dear.” Aziraphale beamed up at him, making it clear just how happy he was to see the other. “So I thought to get Galileo’s telescope out and gaze at your creations.”

The demon flinched at that nonchalant mention of his time as Raphael, creator of stars. Of course, he tried to hide that as best he could by sitting down next to him and leaning into his shoulder. “Right. Of course, that sounds like something nice to do with our evening.”

Though he’d tried to hide it, Aziraphale’s all-knowing gaze could see right through him, as usual. “Oh, I’m sorry, Crowley. I should have remembered that you do not like to talk about that.”

He tried to shrug it off, but he was sure that he was very unsuccessful. “Let’s just enjoy the stars, shall we?”

With a soft smile, Aziraphale nodded again, pressed a soft kiss to the demon’s cheek and then leaned forward to look through the telescope once again. For the rest of the night, the pair of them enjoyed what little stars they could see in the middle of London.[1] Around four a.m., the demon fell asleep curled up against his angel, who made his wings appear to wrap around Crowley like a blanket. When the sun rose, the book shop owner carefully lifted him up and carried him to his bed, conveniently miracled into existence. He himself sat down in the chair next to the bed, cradling a book until his favourite demon woke up again.

[1] Though multiple miracles were performed that evening. Aziraphale’s were focussed on keeping the sky clear enough so that they could actually see the stars, while Crowley was keeping his angel fed and happy. It was quite a wonderful evening, in the end. 


	2. II. Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff for today! I'm still learning how to do those footnotes, so please give me a little bit to get used to it.
> 
> I have set it so that on a computer, all you have to do is hover over the number of the footnote and it should give you the footnote itself. Can anyone let me know whether this also works on mobile?

If there was anything that Crowley _knew_ Aziraphale liked, it was food. The angel would eat almost anything, as long as it was delicious. Those were big shoes to fill for anything that Crowley could bring home.[1] He vaguely remembered a chocolate shop next to his favourite florist, so they decided to start there.

Walking into the shop was something that he had never done before, but as he was greeted by the shop owner, he immediately knew that he had made the right choice. It was a shop where his angel would come, if he’d been invited. So the demon put on his ‘I’ll be polite, even if it’s just for Aziraphale’s sake’ face on and stepped forward.

Half an hour, and too much money spent on chocolate, later, Crowley stepped out of there again. The demon rushed over to the bookstore, slamming the door behind him in excitement as they called out for the angel. “Aziraphale? Angel!”

The blonde angel’s head popped out from the back room, a smile immediately spreading across his face as he spotted his demon. Whatever he’d been doing was abandoned, because Aziraphale rushed over to pepper Crowley’s face with kisses.

“Welcome home, dear.” He whispered, one word between each kiss.

The demon smiled, wrapping his arms carefully around the angel, the gift wrapped present bouncing against the other’s back, something that got Aziraphale’s attention.

“What’s that, Crowley? Where did you get it?” The angel seemed to have a sixth sense about what it was, because he was already twisting around in the demon’s arms, attempting to take a look at the little bag.

Of course, the demon slapped the angel’s greedy hands away with his free hand, though his teasing grin revealed that this would only be temporarily. “Be patient, angel.” He let go of the angel, only to hand the bag over to him. “Happy anniversary?”

It seemed to take the angel a moment to realise what anniversary the demon could possibly be talking about.[2] Seemingly torn between tearing open the present and asking Crowley what he could possibly be talking about, he decided to combine both. While opening the present, he spoke again: “Crowley? Wha—chocolate? Crowley, did you get me chocolate?” The first bar was pulled out of the bag. “And _candy_?”

Before the demon could actually answer those questions, he was almost attacked by Aziraphale’s kiss.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” As fast as the other had kissed him, he was gone even faster, getting more and more bars and small packages out of the present bag, placing them onto the table in the back of the bookshop. “Oh, I can’t _wait_ to taste them.” His eyes trailed Crowley as the demon followed him, before quickly taking out two pieces of candy and offering him one.

“I think I made the right decision.” He chuckled playfully, though the demon did seem ridiculously pleased with himself. “I thought it time to commemorate our Agreement, after all those centuries. And what better present to give you than something you like?”

“I love you.” The angel blurted out, something that, despite their millennia of friendship, had never been said before.

Crowley tensed up for a moment[3], but then softened and relaxed against Aziraphale. “I know.” His voice was softer and gentler than it usually was. “Let’s try out this candy and chocolate, huh?”[4]

With a soft smile, the angel nodded and fed the demon one of the pieces of candy.[5]

[1] They were approaching the anniversary of their Agreement, the one that had come into existence in the thirteen hundreds and the demon had decided to get Aziraphale something special. First, a plant had come to mind, but the angel had absolutely no green thumbs, so it would come down to him taking care of said plant. Food seemed to be the safer bet. 

[2] Aziraphale could get very focussed, to the point where he lets hot cocoa’s grow cold as he reads a book, but usually, the easiest way to distract him was to offer him food. Crowley knew this. Crowley abused it too often. 

[3] Aziraphale was terrified that the demon wouldn’t return the sentiment, seeing that he tensed up underneath his embrace. After all, demons weren’t usually the type to make big declarations of love. 

[4] Crowley was horrible at expressing their emotions, most of all love.

[5] Crowley didn’t need to say it for the angel to know that he, too, loved him. 


	3. III. Lazy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late and posted past my midnight, but still written before I go to sleep! So I'm considering this a success.  
enjoy!

Waking up in his bed, the demon relished the warmth of his own body in the blanket for just a few minutes. A glance at his clock tells him that it’s already noon, that he really should get out of bed and start the day, but instead he just rolled over, deciding to settle on a lazy day in bed. He sniffled – he really hoped he wasn’t getting sick, but then he remembered that demons don’t _get_ sick – before hiding his head once again in the pillow.

Within minutes, he was asleep once again.

About halfway through the afternoon, Aziraphale joined him, briefly waking him up when he did. Some lazy kisses were exchanged, before the pair of them curled up, leaving Crowley to be the small spoon.

“In no mood to come out of bed?” Aziraphale asked softly, as his lips brushed against Crowley’s back.

“It’s cold.” Crowley muttered; a statement that should explain just why the demon didn’t come out of bed. “But I could be convinced to leave the safety of my bed for some dinner.”

The angel seemed to need a few seconds to think about that temptation, before shaking his head. “You stay in bed, dear. I’ll just miracle some food here, so I can feed the pair of us.”

Quite liking that idea, Crowley slowly (and carefully) turned around to press a soft kiss to the tip of the angel’s nose. “Doesn’t that count as a frivolous miracle?”

“I’m blessing someone with a full stomach and contentment, what could be less frivolous than that?” Aziraphale hummed softly, making eye contact with the demon without his glasses, a rare occasion indeed.

“You are so considerate.” He sent the other the softest little smile, one that the angel had learned meant ‘I love you’.

“I love you too.” Aziraphale replied, pressing one quite kiss to Crowley’s cheek before the rest of the evening descends into casual, lazy banter between two people who have absolutely nowhere else to be.


	4. IV. Cosy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but sweet, I guess? There'll be stories that'll end up being longer, promise.

A book and some hot cocoa, that was all Aziraphale needed to be comfortable and content. On a usual evening, the angel could be found curled up on the sofa in the book shop, his current favourite tome placed in his lap. He’d considered calling Crowley, so that he could curl up along with him, but had changed his mind at the last minute, not wanting to interrupt his evening.

Aziraphale was leafing through the book as he heard a noise coming from the font of the shop, so he looked up and called out, mostly out of habit: “The shop’s closed!”

“Even for me?” A familiar voice rang through the room and immediately, a smile spread across the angel’s face.

“Crowley!” The book was immediately placed to the side as the angel rushed to the front of the shop. While they should probably try not to seem too eager to see their favourite demon, they just couldn’t help it. A kiss was pressed to his lips the moment that he was in reach, their fingers intertwining soon afterwards. “What brings you here?”

“Bored.” The demon shrugged, as he gently squeezed the angel’s hand. “And in dire need of a cosy night in. What do you think?”

“All you have to do is ask.”


	5. V. Garden

A garden; despite the memories to the original garden of Eden, Crowley had always wanted one of his own. Granted, he had a _Plant Room_ in his apartment, but that wasn’t exactly the same as a proper garden. So when Aziraphale brought up the idea of moving somewhere else, to South Downs perhaps, he immediately started looking for a house with a garden. A big one, preferably.

Just as he was about to give up looking for the perfect spot, that was when he found just what he needed. It was a small cottage, big enough for Aziraphale to move the best part of his library into, while the garden was absolutely wonderful. He could already see the roses out front, the apple tree in the back—

When he had gathered all information that he could find and had held back from placing a bid on the house without consulting his angel, he practically threw the folder of information on top of the book that Aziraphale had been reading.

He took one look at it all and then started laughing. The angel got a very similar folder out with the exact same information on the exact same house. Unbeknownst to each other, they had picked the same house to settle in. They certainly had a good laugh about that.

When moving day rolled about, Aziraphale had not only asked Anathema and Newt over for help – though he could easily miracle everything over there – but also had encouraged her to bring the Them along, though they needed to be bribed with the promise of candy and pancakes.[1] The chaos had started long before everyone had arrived – Crowley had insisted that he could at _least_ miracle everything into boxes, since he was in no mood to go through the entire bookshop – but the Them were certainly the biggest addition. Hyped up on sugar, Adam rushed over towards the demon, wrapping his arms around the snake’s lanky frame.[2]

“So when do we get pancakes?” That was Wensleydale, standing in the front door of the bookshop, a glancing around at all the boxes. “I need my strength before I can lift anything.”

It was at that moment that Crowley knew that the adults would end up doing most of the lifting.[3]

It took them all most of the day – and a lot of bribery, mostly Crowley’s work – before all the boxes were tucked away in the moving truck. Aziraphale hadn’t taken everything with him, of course, he was taking the most important things and leaving the rest there in case they needed to crash in London for a night or two, but it was still an impressive haul. Crowley ushered the Them back into Anathema’s car – an upgrade from Dick Turpin, since it was simply too small to fit everyone – and turned towards Aziraphale to guide him towards the truck when he spotted the angel standing, staring at the bookshop.

He walked over to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.[4] “Time to go, Angel.” He said softly. “You know we’re not leaving this behind forever, right?”

“Yes, I—I know.” Aziraphale nodded, sniffling briefly. “It’s just… the end of an era.”

“And also the beginning of one.” Crowley pressed a kiss to those blonde curls at the angel’s temple. “Come. We have an entire ride in the care to think back on our amazing times in your bookshop.”

After the angel was guided towards the truck, the demon put the key into the ignition and drove off, the slowest they had in a _long time_.[5]

\--~--

They got to South Downs by eight p.m., at which point Anathema and Newt took the Them for a quick tour, and then back to Tadfield, in time for their bedtimes.[6] This left the angel and the demon on their own in their new home, with a moving truck and no idea where everything went. After a brief argument, all lovingly of course, they got to the compromise that Crowley would miracle the boxes into the house, but that they would manually unload them together. That would end up being the work of weeks, nay months, but at least the bed and the coffee machine were unloaded that very evening.

Once that was taken care of, Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves sitting on a bench in their garden, looking at the wilderness that the previous owners had allowed it to become.[7]

“Looks like you’ll have a lot of work to do.” The angel said quietly, basking in the quiet that was South Downs.

“Oh, I will manage to whip them into shape again.” The demon grinned, and it was almost as if the plants could feel right then that they would have to take the ‘whipping’ seriously.

Within a few days, the entire garden was looking exactly the way that Crowley wanted it to.

[1] When Crowley asked why they didn’t simply miracle everything over there, Aziraphale muttered something in the kind of ‘It’s a thing that humans do. Plus, this way we can keep up with our friends.’ The demon refused to acknowledge the ‘while we still can’ hanging in the air between the two beings.

[2] Crowley fought the urge to tense up and hiss and instead wrapped his arms around the kid and hugged him back. This resulted in a hug pile including the entire Them and Aziraphale. The angel very gracefully ignored the tear that rolled down the demon’s cheek.

[3] “We can still miracle everything into the cottage and just have a nice day with everyone.”

“Nonsense, my dear boy. The physical work is half of the fun.”

[4] Now it was Crowley’s turn to ignore those tears that Aziraphale very quickly brushed away. Nobody needed to acknowledge those.

[5] Something that Crowley hadn’t actually told anyone was that he couldn’t’ drive: he’d always gotten away with wishing the car to go places, especially his Bentley, a car that he had a very close band with. This truck, on the other hand, was difficult to manoeuvre and it took him a few minutes before he’d gathered the courage to go even a few miles above the limit.

[6] Or maybe a little bit late.

[7] If Crowley hadn’t known any better, then he would have called it a jungle. Of course, he did know better, and therefore he didn’t.


	6. VI. Shopping

“Alright, who thought it was a good idea to go to IKEA?” Crowley stared at the plan in front of him, unable to figure out where they were, where the exit was and how the pair of them had gotten there to begin with.

“Yours, dear boy.” Aziraphale seemed a lot less bothered by this entire situation.

“It _wasn’t_. I thought it was your idea.” The demon turned towards his blonde counterpart; an eyebrow raised at him. “I definitely remember you telling me that we should go to IKEA to get a replacement for that sofa you broke a few weeks back.”

“I only said that because you’d suggested that we buy a few more pieces of furniture when we moved into the cottage.” Aziraphale frowned a little, especially as the other raised his voice and people started to stare at the pair of them. “Please, Crowley, keep it down. We don’t want to be kicked out.”

“No, no, we’re going to figure out just who got us into this particular situation.” He did lower his voice a little, not only because the angel had asked, but also because they really _were_ turning some heads. “I only suggested we come to IKEA because you told me, back in London, about one of your customers and about how they had gotten you that little table that you like so much.”

“Oh, was that from here? You spilt coffee on it, or was it wine, that night that we got drunk.” Suddenly remembering what table that they were talking about, a small smile spread across Aziraphale’s face.

“You’ll have to be more specific. We got drunk a _lot_ near that table.” Many fond memories had been made in that bookshop. None of them were forgotten.

“The one time- I don’t quite remember why we got drunk that time.” The angel turned back to the plan that Crowley was attempting to read. “We’re here, I think.”

The conversation seemed to be dropped, so Crowley wasn’t going to cling to it. “No, no, that’s where the beds were and we passed those a few rooms back.”

“Well, then we’re here then.” Aziraphale placed their finger somewhere else, though still incorrect. “Where do _you_ think we are?”

“Here.” Crowley’s guess was closer, but still not quite right. “Or here.” Still wrong. “Or-“

“Oh, for god’s sake.” A stranger pushed between the two of them, before pointing at the big ‘you are here’ sticker. “You are here, now step aside so that others can use this map as well.”

Flabbergasted, the pair stared at each other, then the man, then the human, then the map again, and they just started laughing. The stranger had to actually push them aside, muttering a ‘idiots. The lot of them’ under his breath while their laugh deflated into giggles, and they eventually calmed down again.

Now that they knew where they were, getting to the sofa area was easy enough, though picking out a sofa was a while new challenge.


	7. VII. Outfit Of The Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a wild weekend. Glad to be caught up, though.
> 
> In this chapter, Crowley presents female, which explains the change of pronouns. She is, however, still very much Crowley.

Aziraphale walked into their bedroom to find many dresses sprayed out on the bed. Crowley was standing in the corner, holding two a pantsuit and a dress in front of herself. The angel smiled, admiring her for just a moment before clearing his throat to announce his presence.

“Do you need any help, dear?” He hummed, making his way over just as Crowley turned around towards him.

“Oh, yes, angel. Perfect. I am not quite sure what I want to wear tonight, please help?” She smiled. Crowley didn’t really look all that different when presenting female: she still had the same cheekbones, still those beautiful yellow eyes that Aziraphale admired so much. She was still lanky and had legs for days, but her curves were a little more pronounced, she wore a bra, giving her a hint of boobs with only a minimal change to her body. “I’ve managed to narrow it down to—” She gestured at everything on the bed. “—But I just can’t make a decision.”

“Well, I can’t make a decision based on dresses laying on a bed, dear girl. Why don’t you put them on and I’ll tell you which one I like best.” Aziraphale got comfortable on the one part of the bed that wasn’t covered with clothes, crossing his legs underneath himself.

First reaction to that proposition was an eye roll from Crowley. She didn’t like dressing up, but she couldn’t say no to the puppy eyes that the angel was sending in her direction. “Just hand me the first dress you want me to put on, then.”

The angel threw one, a little black dress, towards Crowley, who easily caught it. “This one looks like you’ll like it.”

A wink sent in his direction, she disappeared behind a screen, only to get back in a little black dress. “What do you think?”

“I like it.” Aziraphale said before he had even actually looked at her. “Now show me this!”

Before Crowley could even protest about anything, another dress was already thrown her way. A few words muttered under her breath and she disappeared again. A few minutes later she came out in a dark grey cocktail dress, then a black pantsuit, then another little dress, red this time, and eventually the first black dress again.

They still weren’t any closer on making a decision.

“Which one did you prefer, Crowley? What did you feel the best in?” Aziraphale asked softly, as he looked her up and down once again.

“I don’t know. I am not really feeling any of them for tonight.” She sighted softly, before reaching for her usual outfit: the tight black trousers, the shirt, the tie-scarf and eventually the blazer. As soon as she had put it on, a sense of perfection settled over her.

This was it. This was the outfit of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it obvious I don't really like writing about clothes? I just liked the idea of Crowley doing a little bit of a fashion show for Aziraphale.


	8. VIII. Pirate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2.

“Aarrrgh!” The demon grinned as he held his hand in the shape of a hook, pretending to swing it at Aziraphale. “I actually pretended to have a hook for a hand! I had to carry the stupid thing around for the entire voyage of the ship.”

“Please. You can’t possibly be telling the truth. You’re just making it up.” The angel was still staring in disbelief at Crowley and he was fairly sure that he had suddenly reached new heights of ‘oh my god, Crowley is so cool and amazing’ in the other’s head.

So they decided to add some more ridiculousness to the story. “I insisted to be given a cabin for myself, where nobody was to enter without my express permission, written in threefold and approved by the captain.” He cackled as the demon thought back to that amazing time in his life. He’d actually had some fun back then. “Nobody ever entered there.”

The look of amazement had changed into one of disbelief as Aziraphale shook his head, disappointedly. “Only you would use paperwork against annoying visitors.”

“It _was_ one of my more brilliant ideas.” The demon chuckled again, before once more swinging his ‘hook’ at Aziraphale. “I bumped into one of the sailors again a few months after arriving. By then I’d stopped carrying the hook around and he was convinced that I must be my twin brother. Told me to give me his regards.” He sighed, a content little noise. “Those were some good days. What about you, Angel? What are some of your favourite memories without me?”

“You know how angels don’t dance--?”


	9. IX. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of 2.

“You know how angels don’t dance?” The angel seemed to puff himself up a little bit, a proud grin spreading across his face. Before he had even finished his story – or started it, for that matter – Crowley already knew that he was incredibly proud of this achievement. “That is no longer a true statement.”

“When did you learn how to dance?” The demon raised an eyebrow. He could dance, sure, he had the capability to move his body to the rhythm of music, but Crowley hadn’t quite grasped the aspect of dancing _well_. Anyone seeing him in a club would turn their head, ashamed of how bad the dancing was.

“It was the sixteenth century. Or the seventeenth. Or—” Aziraphale frowned, attempting to remember when and where he’d learned how to dance. “Either way, I cannot quite remember. I do know how to learn the Gavotte, a dance that held out for a few months before it disappeared into nothingness.”

Before Crowley could stop him, Aziraphale had already jumped onto his feet, holding a hand out expectantly towards the other. He couldn’t help but take it, the enthusiasm radiating off the angel. Crowley rolled his eyes at him, but fondly, of course.

Once the pair of them was on their feet, Aziraphale took the time to teach Crowley how to dance the one dance that he could teach the demon. By midnight, he’d mastered it and declared the angel that he was bored and tired now and that he wanted to take a nap. With a disappointed look on his face, he watched him leave—

—until he remembered that he was allowed to join the demon in bed, and he promptly darted after Crowley, cuddling up with him in their (now) shared bed. What a perfect end to a perfect evening, he thought, before he felt the blissful arms of sleep (Crowley) wrap themselves around him.


	10. X. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted, but at least a little caught up.

Crowley wasn’t quite sure when he first realised that he was a snake. He’d gone to sleep looking like his favourite shape, but something must have happened during the night, because as he came back into consciousness, he was completely covered by the duvet. Now, this wasn’t so unusual, he often woke up like this, his ginger hair covering most of his face, but he immediately knew that this was different.

Not only was he sleeping all curled up around himself, but he couldn’t push himself up with his arms. Instead, he slithered around himself a couple of times, before his snout was able to peek from under the duvet while most of the rest of his body remained covered in the delightful warmth of the duvet.

What he saw there was a mess, even more so than usual.

Clothes were thrown about everywhere, almost as if someone had gone through it all in search of something. Or something. He really should go explore, Crowley thought, as he glanced around for the angel. He _had_ fallen asleep with his arms around him, hadn’t he? He was so sure that he had. Then where was the angel?

The snake slowly lowered himself off the bed, shivering slightly as his body made contact with the cold morning air. They would have preferred to stay in bed for at least a few more hours, so that he could warm up some more and prepare himself mentally to brace the cold, but this time that wasn’t an option. The angel could be in trouble.

Slithering through the room, the hallway, the upstairs bathroom, then down the stairs, through the living room, the kitchen, the downstairs bathroom and the closet, Crowley looked everywhere for a sign of the angel.

He was nowhere to be seen. How odd.

Of course, they didn’t wake up together every morning, Aziraphale would get up a lot earlier than Crowley would, leaving his love to sleep a little longer until the demon would feel comfortable enough to make his way downstairs for a cup of coffee. It was, however, the first cold day since Crowley had moved in with the angel. Or Aziraphale with him, depending on how you looked at it. It was the first time he’d woken up as a s—

Oh.

Aziraphale didn’t know that this was something perfectly normal, that this was something that happened. He probably should have told him at _some_ point. Well, too late.

It was at that point that the angel rushed into the bookshop again, worry clearly visible in his eyes as he scanned the room once again, looking for any sign of his lover. He seemed tense enough, more so than Crowley had ever seen him before. This truly was peculiar behaviour. “Crowley? Crowley, if you’re hiding, this really isn’t the time to play games!”

The snake moved into Aziraphale’s cone of vision, and immediately, the angel seemed to hyperfocus on him. Wow, how intense. Crowley slowly slithered over, but couldn’t even make it halfway there when Aziraphale rushed over and carefully lifted him up.

“Where have you _been?_ You should have told me if you were planning to go on a snake adventure! Do you have any idea how _worried_ I was?” Crowley could see that the angel was trying so hard not to raise his voice, so he graced that with moving towards him, booping his nose and then slithering out of his hands to return to his favourite shape.

A shiver immediately ran down his spine and he quickly summoned the warm duvet he’d been wrapped up in only a few minutes earlier. “I was right there, Angel; it’s not my fault that you weren’t looking for a small snake.”

“A small—” Aziraphale finally seemed to glance around, ‘lower’ his body heat to Crowley’s, then shivered as well. “Oh, dear boy, it’s _cold_ isn’t it? Why don’t we just curl up in bed for a while?” His anger completely forgotten, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in his and tugged him all the way towards the bedroom, duvet and all.


	11. XI. Pumpkin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of a series of rather short ones, with Crowley presenting female. Most that I've written are soft and fluffy, but I'm sure that there'll be some angst in there somewhere.
> 
> Also, prepare for a dump. I'll try to post them all at the same time, so that those few who have subscribed don't get 14 notification emails as I post them one by one.

“What do you mean, ‘how hard can it be to make pumpkin soup’? Very _fucking_ hard, otherwise we would have tried to make it a long time ago.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, dear boy. I found a very interesting recipe online, with turmeric and ginger.”

“Really, angel, these sound like very famous last words.”

“Nonsense. How could someone die of making pumpkin soup?”

\--~--

A few hours later, a very strong burnt smell hung in their kitchen as Aziraphale desperately tried to explain to the fire brigade that everything was fine, that the fire had been taken care of (miracled away, of course). The angel smiled very sweetly at the firement, offering them a cup of tea, coffee or even hot cocoa, for those who were interested. While that was happening, he was very much avoiding a very smug Crowley, who was standing in the corner with her arms crossed and who was watching all the going-ons with way too much glee.


	12. XII. Sweater

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“Come here for a moment, will you?”

“Hmm, ‘m sleepin’, Angel.”

“I made a sweater for you.”

“I’ll wear it when I’m awake, Aziraphale.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yeah, sure, hnn. Can I get back t’sleepin’ now?”

\--~--

If one were to have paid attention to the inhabitants of a small cottage in South Downs, then they would have discovered a very smug blonde man, dressed in soft pastel colours, and a beet red ginger woman, who seemed to be protesting against a pastel sweater she’d been forced to wear over her dress.

But Crowley made sure that nobody as watching.

Nobody at all.


	13. XIII. Cat

By the time that Crowley came home from London[1] Aziraphale was sitting in the middle of their flat, an ugly, ginger cat in his lap. He was petting it, seemingly ignoring the hissing that came from the creature in his lap. Crowley couldn’t even call it a cat; it really was too … The ears seemed to have been torn, the fur was patchy and positively ugly.

“Angel. Why are you petting… _that_?”

“I found it sitting on the bookshop’s doorstep and I just couldn’t leave it outside.” The angel sighed contently, his hand still running through the patches of fur. “It reminded me of you.”

“I have never been so insulted in my entire life.” She huffed, though she did sit down next to the angel, trying to pet the cat himself. Immediately, she was hissed at by it. Ignoring that, she still reached out and attempted to pet it, but a lashing out of the cat later, Crowley gave up.

A few scratches had appeared on her hand, making her tear up with (fake) tears. “Aziraphale…” She muttered, hoping that the angel would pick her side and not the cat’s.

“Oh tough up, dear. It’s only a scratch. I’m not sending the cat away.” The angel resumed petting the cat. “I might call it Crowley Jr.”

The demon _glared_ at Aziraphale, got up again and left him alone with ‘Crowley Jr.’ She hated it already, but as long as the angel was completely enamoured with it, she wouldn’t be able to get rid of it. She would take care of it later. They hadn’t seen the last of Crowley Jr.

[1] She had needed to get something for her Bentley and had stopped by the bookshop for Aziraphale.


	14. XIV: Sweet

Every Monday afternoon, Aziraphale made his way to the local bakery. Sometimes Crowley would accompany him, but more often than not, the demon stayed at the cottage to take care of the plants. The angel tried very hard not to think about the state the plants would be in when he’d return.[1]

Those thoughts, however, were easily dismissed upon entering the bakery. The smell that wafted over to the angel as soon as he opened the door, was heavenly.[2] A smile instantly appeared on his face as he walked over towards the counter, where a raven-haired young man was standing.

“Good afternoon, Mr Fell.” He greeted the angel.

“Good afternoon, Olar.” He hummed, his eyes already scanning the pastries and small cakes behind the man.

“The usual?” He asked, already turning around to grab the pastries that he had learned over the last few months that were Aziraphale’s favouites.

“Actually, no thank you. I was hoping to try a few new ones.” The angel got out a list of cakes and pastries that Crowley had wanted to try and handed it over to the baker’s assistant. “If you don’t have them, then that’s fine. I don’t have to have _all_ of these, I merely wanted to see if you had any at all.”

Olar took the list from him, frowning as he attempted to read it.[3] “We have some macaroons, I think those are on the list.” He muttered, mostly to himself. “And of course the croissants.” He squinted at the list one last time before disappearing to the back of the bakery, where Aziraphale was unable to follow him.

He took the opportunity to glance around the bakery, at the different decorations, and the many kinds of bread that were on display. He briefly considered getting that as well, but he knew that he would end up eating all the bread on his own, since Crowley wasn’t that big of an eater. She’d eat when Aziraphale asked her to, when they would go to a restaurant, but apart from that? He rarely had that much luck.

He was still thinking about the demon when Olar returned, a rather large box in his hands. “This is all we have. I wrapped everything together, since we need to look after our environment.”

That earned him a small smile from the angel and a nod of agreement. “Of course. How much do I owe you, Olar?”

Money was exchanged, as well as goodbyes and a ‘I’ll see you next week, Mr Fell’ as Aziraphale made his way back to the house. There, he found Crowley fussing over a small bouquet of flowers, though she tried to hide it behind her back as she heard the demon walk in. “Aziraphale, is that you?”

“Who else would it be, dear?” The angel smiled at her. “I have a surprise for you, why don’t you move over here?”

She licked her lips nervously, before moving over, her hands clearly holding something behind her back. “What a coincidence, I have a surprise for you as well.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest?” The angel grinned, before getting the box out of the bag. He could immediately see the recognition in Crowley’s eyes and she moved forward to take the box from him, revealing the small bouquet that she had collected from different flowers from the garden. Upon realising that she was showing her surprise, Crowley just sent him a sheepish little grin.

“I forgot I was holding onto it. Uh… This is for you, Angel.” She said softly.

Aziraphale took the bouquet around the same time that Crowley took the box and opened it. A brief smile was exchanged between the pair of them and then made their way to the kitchen, both to enjoy the pastries and put the flowers in some water.

[1] He could imagine that they’d be trembling, fearing for their life after Crowley had warned them one last time (and this really was the last chance they were going to get, she would remind them). He would have to remind them of their beauty upon returning. 

[2] At least, if Heaven would have had a smell. 

[3] In his defence, both Crowley and Aziraphale’s handwriting could be absolutely awful if they wanted it to be. They were both able to read the other’s writing, after all, so if they knew it was for the other, they didn’t bother putting in effort.


	15. XV. Puppies

“What do you _mean_ Dog has puppies? Do you know what that _means_? What if those puppies are Hellhounds as well?”

“My dear boy, take a deep breath.”

“No! I don’t get why you aren’t as worried as I am! If these Hellhounds aren’t trained properly, people will actually _die_, Angel. People will _die_.”

“You’re being overly dramatic now, Crowley. I believe that Adam and Dog will be able to take care of them well.”

“If we get a call that Adam died because of these bloody Hellhounds – or _anyone_ for that reason, I’m blaming you.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Their blood will be on _your _hands.”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned, darling. Let’s just get lunch, shall we?”

“Ngk. Fine.”


	16. XVI. Soft

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hint of angst. There'll be more to come.

One day, the angel returned from hanging out with—Well, Crowley hadn’t exactly been paying attention when Aziraphale had left. She’d been curled up on her bed, barely awake, merely making humming noises in agreement, so that the angel wouldn’t get suspicious. It hadn’t been the best of days and she had decided that the day should be spent in bed. (Which was exactly what she did.)

When Aziraphale returned, Crowley was still in bed, her hair a big mess on top of her head. She tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear as her head popped up from underneath the covers. Instantly, merely by looking at the angel’s face, she could see that something was wrong.

“Aziraphale?”

“Crowley, do you think I’m… soft?”

Without a moment of hesitation, the demon replied: “Yes. Do I think that’s a bad thing? Absolutely not.”

The angel glanced up; his eyes filled something – Crowley couldn’t exactly make out what – as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “You might be the only one…” He sighed, before he laid down on the bed right next to the demon. Immediately, the duvet was wrapped around him.

“Did you talk to Gabriel again?” Crowley sighed softly, as she snuggled tightly into the angel’s side. She made sure that her hands didn’t rest any of the areas that she knew made the angel self-conscious at moments like this: she especially steered clear of Aziraphale’s tummy. “You know that he just wants you to be a lean, mean fightin’ machine, and nothing more.”

“No, not Gabriel this time. Just… some teenagers in the park, calling me ‘soft’ and ‘fatty’ as I walked by.” He buried his face in the demon’s shoulder, a sigh escaping him. “They’re only humans, but it… Are you sure you don’t mind me being soft?”

The kiss that Crowley pressed against Aziraphale’s temple was one of the softest she’d be able to manage. “I don’t mind you being soft. Those are the parts that I love most about you.” Before the angel could even say anything else, a soft kiss was pressed against his lips. “They’re clearly just unsure about themselves and take it out on you.”

“You’re probably right.” Aziraphale sighed. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Any time, Angel. Any time.”


	17. XVII. Book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going part 1 of a few stories that's going to be linked together. You'll figure it all out as it goes along. (:

“Aziraphale?”

Silence. The demon wasn’t completely surprised at this, since it was something that the Angel was prone to do when reading. Give him a book that he’s interested in and he’s lost to the world.

“Aziraphale.”

Still no reaction. Crowley sighed dramatically, hoping to catch his angel’s attention that way, but no. No such luck. So rather than say something else and have it fall on a deaf man’s ears, he rushed over, plopped down on the sofa that Aziraphale was sitting on and positioned himself so that his head was resting in his lap.

“Crowley, silly boy.” That was when he managed to get the angel’s attention. “Why didn’t you call out to me?”

The demon smiled a little as the angel ruffled his hair, glancing up at him. “Because I already did. And you clearly didn’t hear that.” He chuckled softly, before relaxing. “Put the book away, Angel. I need your attention with something.”

The angel sighed softly, rolled his eyes and then put down the book. “Only because you ask, my dear.”

And with a small smile around his lips, he dragged the angel towards his car and then drove off to London, fully intending to enjoy a wonderful autumn day in the city.


	18. XVIII. Autumn

By the time the pair of them got to Hyde Park, Aziraphale was reduced to not much more than a clingy mess. He did hate it when Crowley drove 110 miles an hour in the centre of London, hated seeing people get almost hit oh so many times – “They’re walking on the street, Angel, they know the risk they’re taking!” – but had learned over the years that it was better not to say anything about it, lest it would annoy the demon.

So Aziraphale’s fingers needed to be pried away from the chair, as Crowley muttered comforting noises, tried to help him get out of the car. “Things are all right now, Angel. See? We’ve stopped.”[1]

Aziraphale muttered something incomprehensible but did allow Crowley to get him out of the car, soon relaxing again now that they were in the open and away from any and all cars. “Oh, my dear boy, drive a little slower next time, will you?”

“Yes, yes, fine, Angel.” The demon sighed, before offering the angel his arm. If they were going to make this into a date, then Crowley would properly enjoy this and make it absolutely clear that Aziraphale was _his_ and nobody else’s.

“Good. I would appreciate that.” Upon noticing the slightly annoyed look on his demon’s face, he pecked his cheek and started to walk, a smile around his lips as he took the offered arm. He too, was of the opinion that if you have it, you should flaunt it.[2] “Now, Crowley, my dear. Do you remember the last time we were in this park?”

It hadn’t been a good day, that one. The last time they’d met in Hyde Park, Crowley had asked the angel for Holy Water and that had announced the start of a century of Not Communicating, which for the demon had been worse than Hell. So rather than smile and say ‘yes, of course I remember’, he made up some kind of excuse so that they wouldn’t have to talk about that day. “Hmm, it was when Henry had only just bought this piece of land, wasn’t it?”

The advantage of knowing each other for six thousand years, was that they knew perfectly well when one of them didn’t want to talk about something. Aziraphale, though slow to pick up on some things, realised immediately that Crowley didn’t want to talk about That Day. “He didn’t so much buy it as well as _claim_ it, Crowley, as you very well know. Was the Church of England one of your creations?”

“I always thought it was one of yours.” The demon shrugged, relaxing now that the subject had been avoided. “We usually stay far away from churches.”

“Let me rephrase my question, then. Did you tell Henry the Eighth that it was a good idea to want to divorce his first wife?” The angel looked expectantly at him, fairly sure that he already knew the answer.

Imagine his surprise when Crowley shook his head. “Nope. Had nothing to do with that. As I said, we tend to stay away from churches, Angel.”

“Hmm.” Aziraphale seemed to need some time to process that, so he simply walked for about half a minute, something that Crowley didn’t seem to mind in the least. “Y’know, out of most monarchs, I—”

Before he could even finish his sentence, he was rudely assaulted by… a squirrel. The creature had snuck up on the pair of them, had approached the slightly chubbier one, convinced that he would have food on him to sustain himself, and crawled up the back of the angel. However, now that it had reached his vantage point, it quickly realised that there was no food at all to be gained from being here, and—

Just as quickly as it had managed to crawl on top of Aziraphale, it had jumped down again, running off towards a grubby looking man, who was currently in the process of dividing a cupcake under the squirrels.

Immediately, the angel tried to take a closer look at his pristine ivory jacket, to make sure that the animal hadn’t left any pawprints. When he couldn’t exactly see that much without taking the jacket off, he turned towards Crowley, only to discover that the demon was staring at the man, at the stranger who had attracted their squirrel. “Crowley!” He huffed, in an attempt to get his attention once again.

“There’s something off about him, angel.” The demon waved dismissively at the angel; his eyes still trained on the stranger. “Something not… _human_.”

“_Crowley_.” The angel snapped, almost calling him by the name he’d first been given after the Fall.[3] “He is just a homeless man feeding the squirrels a cupcake. There’s nothing non-human about him. Now _look at my jacket!_” Aziraphale seemed to have realised just how rude he sounded, because a weaker, slightly less yelled ‘please’ was added not even a second later.

And just like that, the demon seemed to have been pulled out of whatever interest the other had held over him. “It looks like it always does, Aziraphale. Clean and ivory and so very _you_.” As his attention shifted once again from his friend to the homeless man, he was surprised to discover that the mass of squirrel that had gathered was still there, along with a single cupcake, but that the man himself had disappeared. “The only interesting thing in this park and you’ve chased him off.” Crowley huffed, though he realised the moment that those words had left his mouth that that had been the wrong thing to say.

“The _only interesting thing in this park_?” The angel repeated, his voice cold as ice.

“Apart from you, of course. You’re always the most interesting in any place that we enter.” As desperately as he tried to backpaddle, it didn’t seem to be working. He could see the rage in the angel’s eyes only grow and immediately took a step back as he was suddenly reminded that Aziraphale was first and foremost a warrior, created to guard one of the gates of Eden.

“Why don’t you go hang out with your _interesting man_ then?” Before Crowley could even say something, the angel had unfurled his wings, clearly not caring who else was looking at him, and then flew off.

Within two heartbeats, Crowley was left entirely on his own on this (not-so) wonderful Autumn day.

[1] Maybe Crowley should stop driving as fast as he did, at least with the angel present.

[2] The ‘it’ in this case being Crowley, his boyfriend, his lover, his _partner_.

[3] He only ever did that when properly annoyed, or when very emotional and distracted.


	19. XIX. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourself for some more angst.

After Aziraphale’s disappearance, Crowley looked everywhere in London in an attempt to find him. First, he went to the bookshop, no such luck. Then, to his own apartment, which he only kept for days like this, in case he needed to stay in London. He wasn’t there either. Then to the places they’d visited most often: St James’ Park, the bandstand, the British Museum—the angel was nowhere to be found. _Nowhere_. Even the Ritz was absolutely and completely devoid of angels.

Crowley knew that Aziraphale was mad at him, that he would probably stay away until he had calmed down again, but panic was slowly spreading through the demon. The last time he hadn’t been able to get a hold of the angel, the bookshop had burned down. And no matter how much he tried not to think about that, not to _remember_, his mind kept slipping back.

_Sulphur was already penetrating his nostrils, he could see the flames again, the bookshop completely destroyed and absolutely and _completely_ devoid of the angel. _

That had been one of the worst days of his life.

When Crowley still hadn’t found Aziraphale by the end of the day, he returned to the bookshop, utterly defeated. He stared at the kitchen, stared at the books, stared at everything that reminded him so much of the angel. Where even _was_ he? Where had he gone? Had he returned to their little cottage? Crowley didn’t want to risk missing him in case Aziraphale _had_ remained in London, so he decided to stay at the bookshop for the night, returning only the next day to the cottage.

He miracled a dinner in the kitchen, kept it warm, in case the angel would drop by again unexpectedly.[1] Eventually, the dinner would grow cold as Crowley’s hope dissipated.

[1] After all, their plan had been to go to the Ritz and enjoy a nice meal together.


	20. XX. Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst keeps happening.

“_This is where you say who you are, Angel. – Uh, right. _Hello. This is Aziraphale. You have reached my voice mail, _what do I say next, Crowley? – You tell them to leave a message, so that they know that you’ll call them back once you’ve heard it. – Uhm…_What he said. – BEEP.”

“Angel… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. I know that this doesn’t make a lot of sense looking back, but… I really am sorry. Please come back? I—”

“_This is where you say who you are, Angel. – Uh, right. _Hello. This is Aziraphale. You have reached my voice mail, _what do I say next, Crowley? – You tell them to leave a message, so that they know that you’ll call them back once you’ve heard it. – Uhm…_What he said. – BEEP.”

“Got cut off by the answering machine. For a moment, I hoped that you’d… picked up the phone. Uh… Ngk. I know that you’re probably not near your phone, or that you’ve forgotten how to answer your mobile, but, _please_, A—”

“_This is where you say who you are, Angel. – Uh, right. _Hello. This is Aziraphale. You have reached my voice mail, _what do I say next, Crowley? – You tell them to leave a message, so that they know that you’ll call them back once you’ve heard it. – Uhm…_What he said. – BEEP.”

“Damn you, answering machine. But uh…. As I was saying, angel, please let me know you’re safe. I miss you. I’m sorry. I’m worried that something might have happened and—I don’t need you to talk to me again, but—”

“_This is where you say who you are, Angel. – Uh, right. _Hello. This is Aziraphale. You have reached my voice mail, _what do I say next, Crowley? – You tell them to leave a message, so that they know that you’ll call them back once you’ve heard it. – Uhm…_What he said. – BEEP.”

“I understand if you’re mad, but can you please… Just let me know you’re safe? Please?”


	21. XXI. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're close. To. The end of the angst.

After putting down the phone[1], Crowley fell back onto the sofa that had somehow found its way into the bookshop. Initially, Crowley was sure, Aziraphale had probably put it there for the comfort of the customers, but if the demon looked closely, he could see the indentation where the angel had probably spent hours and _hours_ reading.

His heart ached and if it could skip a beat, then it would have as he heard a noise in the back of the bookshop. He rushed over to the back door, only to discover that it had been some closet had slammed shut because of the… wind? He hoped that it had been the wind, at least. It was better than the alternative, that Aziraphale had been here, had _come here and been only a few feet away from him_ and had left again.

_He would never do that_, Crowley thought to himself, trying so desperately to convince himself of this fact. _No matter what, Aziraphale would talk to me._

That was the moment that his traitorous brain reminded him of the century they had spent apart, the century that Aziraphale had refused to talk to him. He had only wanted to take _precautions_, wanted to protect himself against the likes of Ligur and Hastur, and this was what he had gotten. His partner, his _best friend_ had abandoned him in his hour of need.

Oh, how he did hope that Aziraphale was alright.

He had no idea what he’d do if Ligur or Hastur, or even Heaven, had gotten hold of the angel. He wouldn’t know, how could he possibly know if Aziraphale didn’t talk to him? If he was left here, cluelessly, left to discover what had happened to his friend? His mind was racing a thousand miles an hour, trying to provide options for him. Currently, his brain’s favourite was a bloody, beaten angel, standing in front of him smiling a broken grimace that was meant to be a grin.

It was at that point that Crowley got up and started pacing. If he kept his body busy, then his mind would focus on that, right? Then he would stop thinking about all the awful things that could happen to Aziraphale. (_His wings could be ripped off.)_

For a moment, it seemed to work, for a moment, his mind seemed to calm down. For just a fraction of a moment, he could image something nice. (_Aziraphale standing there apologetically, something in his hands, before Crowley would fly to him and pull him in for a hug.) _But that immediately twisted, changed, (_Aziraphale’s face transforming in his embrace, blue, angelic eyes turning into black, empty ones) _until Crowley decided that it was better not to think of anything nice at all.

In an attempt to distract himself, the demon picked up a book, one that he was sure was Aziraphale’s current favourite. (At least, based on all the bookmarks sticking out of it.) That lasted for about five minutes, and then the book was tossed through the room.[2] Up next, he decided it was time for a nap. Aziraphale was sure to wake him up when he arrived – _if_ he arrived. The moment he closed his eyes, he already regretted it. (_Aziraphale, a bloody mess on the floor. Aziraphale’s head, rolling towards him out of complete darkness while Gabriel clearly laughed in the distance. Aziraphale, headless, standing side by side with demons and angels, pointing at Crowley as if _he _was the culprit.)_ His eyes flew open almost instantly. Thinking it was already bad enough, he really didn’t want to use his quite impressive imagination to _see_ it all.

There were many other things that Crowley did to make it through the night, some as ridiculous as the next, but the higher the sun rose, the smaller his hope grew. (Though there was always that small, _small_ voice that told him that maybe he’d show up after all, maybe he’d just have to wait, maybe this was just a test to see what Crowley would do.) And so he stayed. He remained right where he was, determined to await the angel’s arrival.

He’d be awake, he’d be ready.

_Just come home, Aziraphale. That’s all I ask._

[1] He’d had to call that infernal device four times, had to listen to the answering machine four times, which had driven him crazier than it should. He made a mental note that he should definitely tell the angel to change it, maybe even hand him a note with what he should say.

[2] It landed completely unharmed on the other side of the shop. Crowley wasn’t a complete monster. In pain, yes, but not a monster.


	22. XXII. Run

He was running. Away from his feelings, away from his hurt, but he was running. Words were echoing through his head as he did so, _the only interesting thing in this park and you’ve chased him off. The only interesting thing in this park? Apart from you, of course. You’re always the most interesting in any place that we enter. Why don’t you go hang out with your interesting man then?_

Sometimes they were his own, sometimes someone else’s, but they always hurt, they were always filled with regret.

He should never have said any of it, shouldn’t have meant it, shouldn’t have—there were many things he shouldn’t have done throughout his _long_, long life. Yet here he was, still running.

He had no idea where he was at this point. Maybe somewhere above an ocean? Did flying still count as running? He shook his head, trying to get that thought out of there, but it didn’t seem to help. So he glanced down, tried to make out shapes in the water below. Was that…?

North Africa. It must be.

He could see the Nile as a blue, glimmering snake through the continent, and smiled as that brought back memories. But as He appeared, as the Other popped up in his thoughts, that smile immediately disappeared.

This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t how they were supposed to be. He was supposed to be forgiving, he was supposed to be a bastard, but above all, he was supposed to be there for Him. It was at that point that he turned around, that Aziraphale flew away from North Africa, and back towards England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one is gonna be fluff again. Promise.


	23. XXIII. Carrot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairly sure that this was an inside joke, so this is a bit of a stretch.

It had been a full forty-eight hours since Aziraphale had left, and Crowley had strayed from the bookshop to his own apartment in London, where a few plants were… well, he couldn’t say that they were thriving. He’d hoped that they would behave without him, that he’d put the fear of Crowley into them well enough, but no.

No, his Plant Room, of which he’d once been so proud, had become a bit of a jungle.

There was only one plant that was almost doing well, but he could fully well be imagining that.[1] It wasn’t until he had actually reached the plant, had started digging for the carrots that it was supposed to yield, that he knew for _sure_ that he wasn’t seeing things. The carrot that he was holding was one of the biggest that he’d ever seen. Or, well, at least in a very long time.

“Gorgeous.” He whispered, his voice breaking from not having used it for a few days now. “You’ve done so well.”

Those words of praise were so rare from the demon that the plant immediately stood up a little straighter, that one of its leaves that Crowley had almost but not quite been touching, suddenly placed itself on top of his hand.[2]

Tears welled up in his eyes as he pushed the plant away. _No_, he thought. _I’m not going to be done in by a stupid, mindless plant, I’m not going to cry, I’m not, I’m not, I’m NOT._

The plant’s leaf patiently returned, and next it almost seemed like it was squeezing his hand, like the angel had done so often. (Now he was _sure_ that he was imagining things. Plants didn’t squeeze hands. Plants weren’t supportive. They were _plants_, nothing more nothing less.[3]

“_Please_, Aziraphale,” he muttered, as so many times over the course of the last few days. “Just come _home_.”

DING DONG.

[1] The images and flashes of a hurt Aziraphale had only become more and more frequent the longer he was awake.

[2] For a moment, Crowley imagined that it was the plant’s attempt to cheer him up, to distract him. All he could feel was a cold, not-quite-a-hand shape on his, and it made his heart ache even more than before.

[3] But they were _Crowley’s_ plants, which made them slightly more special than normal ones.


	24. XXIV. Bubble tea

Crowley froze like a deer in headlights at the sound of the bell. He didn’t have one, didn’t believe in its use. Either you showed up and Crowley was expecting you, or he wasn’t and then you wouldn’t be allowed to enter anyway.

This meant that the person on the other side of the door couldn’t only be one person.

The demon jumped back upon his feet, not caring that the word seemed to be a little bit blurrier than it had been mere moments ago. His sunglasses had already appeared on his nose to hide the fact that he’d been crying. Was crying. No, _had been crying._ It took him an enormous amount of willpower, but the tears had stopped falling by the time that Crowley made it to the door.

_Be cool, Crowley._

The door slowly swung open, only to reveal a slightly embarrassed looking angel, who was holding two bubble teas.[1] The two beverages immediately crashed to the floor as Aziraphale glanced up and could read Crowley as if he were an open book. “You’ve been crying.”

“No, I _haven’t._” But Crowley’s voice betrayed him: it trembled, wobbly from crying still, and immediately the _cool guy_ façade fell apart. He didn’t care what Aziraphale would think of him, he rushed forward and clung to him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, I didn’t mean it, I was just curious about the man, I—”

“I know, Crowley.”

“I am not above begging you, please come ba— Wait. What-what did you just say, Angel?” There was something that Crowley had heard, but he’d been so busy trying to apologise that he hadn’t quite heard it.

“I know, Crowley. I understand. And I accept your apology.” Aziraphale said softly, as one of his hands gently cupped the demon’s cheek, wiping away some of the wayward tears that hadn’t dried yet. “And I owe you one as well, it seems.”

“Why would you owe me an apology? You didn’t do anything wrong.” At least not in Crowley’s head. “Aziraphale, I insulted you and you got mad, I would have done the exact same.” He wouldn’t have, and the pair of them knew it, but there was a difference between the pair of them, after all.

“If I didn’t do anything wrong, then why are you still clinging to me as if you think that I’m going to disappear the moment you let go of me?” The angel was so gentle, so kind and the look that Crowley got was so overflowing with both of those emotions that it took him everything he had to not start crying again.

The demon’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, but no words left him. He just couldn’t find the right ones to explain why he was nonchalantly clinging to the angel, so instead he settled for the truth. “It’s because the last time I couldn’t find you, you had died.”

“Oh.” It seemed to take a few more seconds for the truth of that statement to hit Aziraphale. “_Oh_, Crowley, my dear boy. Oh, now I definitely have to apologise. I didn’t _mean_ to make you worry like that, I just thought that you—I’d returned so quickly to you that I’d been sure—you did think I was dead for a while, didn’t you?”

The demon couldn’t do much more than nod, since he had lost the fight with the tears and they were rolling down his cheeks once again.

“I just needed a little break, my dear. Needed to calm down just a little bit. But I’m back now, and I’m not going anywhere.” The angel’s hand ran through Crowley’s ginger looks, pulled him a little closer against him as he accepted the clingy hug from the other. “I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

[1] The angel had discovered them sometime after Armageddon’t and had immediately fallen in love with them. Of course, this meant that Crowley had to try them as well, and the demon had had to admit that those weren’t as bad as he thought they would be.


	25. XXV. Sleep

The pair of them had sat on the sofa in the bookshop for a few hours after Aziraphale’s return, Crowley clinging to the angel still, holding on as tightly as he could. If he was fighting to stay awake, if he was trying desperately not to fall asleep, then he was determined not to let it show.

“If you’d like to sleep, darling, you could go into your snake form. I could wear you like a scarf, hold you warm, while I go restock. I don’t think that we should go anywhere just yet, but—” The angel’s stomach growled. “I would quite like to eat something, even if it was just a nibble.”

“Ngk.” The demon made a series of nonsensical noises right before his shape seemed to shift, shrink, until there was a black and red snake in the angel’s lap.

Aziraphale gently leaned down, pressed a soft kiss to the top of the snake’s head, before lifting him up so that Crowley could curl up around his neck. (Which was something the snake immediately did.) At first, the angel was convinced that Crowley would curl up tightly, that he would hold him just as tight as he would have in his human shape, but it was a lot more… nonchalant. Aziraphale found that he could breathe easily and that, if he undid his bowtie and his collar, the demon could be mostly hidden from sight.

“Crowley, if you could move ever so slightly, my love—” He could feel a shiver run through the snake, but he wasn’t sure whether that was a good or a bad one. “—then you can curl up inside my collar, then you can stay as warm as you’d like. There’s no need for you to be cold in the autumn chill, huh?”

The snake seemed to allow him free movement as he undid his bow tie, his collar and allowed him to snuggle closer. Skin-on-skin contact seemed to calm him down, because when the angel glanced down again, Crowley’s eyes had closed. “Sleep well, my dear.”


	26. XXVI. Drink

It wasn’t until two days later that Aziraphale woke up to a human looking Crowley again. The demon was standing in the kitchen, holding two mugs as he turned around and faced the angel again. It was the furthest he’d been away from him in as many days and Aziraphale counted it as a victory. “How are you feeling, Crowley?”

The noise that accompanied the shrug that Crowley gave him was nothing short of vague. He felt some sort of way, but that was something at least. “Want some hot cocoa?”

“Oh, my dear boy, always.” Aziraphale rushed forward, taking one of the mugs from the other and lifting it to his mouth. “Hmm, delicious.” He whispered, as he glanced up and made eye contact with the demon.

It was only then that he realised that Crowley wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, that he could actually look into his serpent eyes.[1] His smile softened considerably, before he leaned closer ever so slowly, and then pressed a quick kiss to the demon’s lips.

“Shut up and drink your hot cocoa, Angel.” Crowley attempted to scoff, but the soft blush on his cheeks were counteracting the effectiveness of the noise. “And maybe kiss me again.”

[1] Sometimes it still surprised Aziraphale how much Crowley trusted him. This was a part of him that was hidden for most of the world, but not for him. Rarely ever for him.


	27. XXVII. Travel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh.  
I never said that these would be good.

“We should travel somewhere, together.” It came out of nowhere and Crowley glanced up in surprise as Aziraphale proposed that. “And I do mean a little further than London.”

“Where would we go, then?” Crowley asked, curled up against the angel, still quite clingy after their last fight.[1] Before Aziraphale could even formulate an answer, he continued: “We could go to Edinburgh together. We’ve never been there at the same time.” And he was quite proud of his Scottish accent, if he was absolutely honest with himself.

“Edinburgh sounds quite lovely, yes. Have you ever seen the castle there? It is quite impressive, and Arthur’s Seat offers an impressive view over the city.” The angel hummed softly, glancing over to the demon and pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“We could also just… fly up and see what the view’s like from there.” Crowley huffed softly, but the demon didn’t really want to do that. He was very aware that the pair of them preferred to do things the human way, after all.

“And you know _full well_ that we’re not going to do that, Crowley.” Aziraphale chuckled softly. “Get out your phone, let’s book some train tickets.”

The demon rolled his eyes, but listened to the angel and did exactly what he was told to do.

[1] Not that Aziraphale minded. He loved cuddling with the demon, holding on tightly to him and sometimes mutter reassuring phrases that told Crowley that he really wasn’t going to leave. He wouldn’t even think of it.


	28. XXVIII. Expensive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha I love these two but haha.  
I have no idea what to write for these last few chapters.

“These tickets are so _heckin’_ expensive!” Crowley exclaimed once the prices had actually appeared on his screens. “Why would I have to pay £73 per person to get to Scotland? We could just as easily drive the Bentley there!”

“No!” The angel called out, a little too loud. But he immediately calmed won and placed a hand on top of Crowley’s shoulder. “Let’s not worry about the Bentley and just take the train there, yeah?” The angel looked at him with puppy eyes and Crowley just _couldn’t_ say no to those.

“Fine. You might have to sell a book for these tickets.” He huffed quietly. “That’s on you and you know it.”

“… Alright, it’s only £73 pounds.” Aziraphale sighed, before attempting to take the phone out of Crowley’s hand.

“That’s the cheapest option if we leave _right now_.” Crowley raised an eyebrow at the angel. “And we’re not in London yet.”

Aziraphale just stared at Crowley for a moment, an unimpressed sigh escaping him, before: “Fine, let’s just take the Bentley.”


	29. XXIX. Visit

“So where do you want to go? You mentioned the castle and Arthur’s Seat?”

“There’s a small bookshop around the corner that has a book that I’d like to buy.”

“Was this all one big ploy to get us here so you could buy this book, Angel?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Crowley. You were the one who suggested we come here.” Pause. “But I did take advantage of the situation, yes.”

Audible eye roll. “Alright, let’s just go to this bookshop, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. We're almost there. I think I had my peek earlier this month.


	30. XXX. Warm

After a long day of going to bookshops, then museums, then a coffeeshop, because Aziraphale was starting to notice the shivers that Crowley was desperate to hide, they finally made their way back to the hotel. Aziraphale had tried to convince the demon to go to a restaurant once they’d warmed up again, but he had given the angel one _look_ and the pair of them had immediately decided that it was a better idea to stay in.

The second that they’d entered the hotel room, Crowley changed into his true form and slithered underneath the duvet. He curled up around himself a few times, until only his head was visible to Aziraphale. This enticed a small smile from the angel as he took off his coat, his shoes and then crawled[1] in bed with the demon. Within moments, the snake curled up around him (or at least near enough so that he could steal Aziraphale’s body heat).

“We won’t have to go out again, my dear.” Aziraphale hummed contently, before pressing a soft kiss to the top of Crowley’s snake head. “Warm up, why don’t you? We’ve got all the time in the world now.”

[1] Every pun intended.


	31. XXXI. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot where I was going with this halfway through, which is why the end is so.... weird.

Halloween was a day eagerly looked forward to throughout the year by many people. Some people started to get ready in September, some in August, others were already thinking about their next Halloween costume as early as the first of November. Aziraphale and Crowley were not one of those people.

This year was the first time that they’d actually gotten reminders that this holiday was rolling around and what the different habits and traditions were that came with it. The Them, mostly Adam, really, had been sending them messages with alarming regularity, asking the pair what they were going to be for Halloween. Aziraphale had fairly early on settled on dressing up as a demon and (somehow) convincing Crowley to dress up as an angel, but if the demon had anything to say in the matter, that was never going to happen.

In fact, he’d stayed up all night, making a list of what they could be. The ideas ranged from ridiculous and unrecognisable (some Belgian duo where one was thin and lanky and the other shorter and rounder) to flashy and idiotic (a gorgon and the hero who defeated her). Most of the ideas where in the line that Crowley was the monster and Aziraphale the hero.[1]

But at some point, a decision needed to be made.

“Angel?” Crowley called out, about halfway through the day. They had been invited by Anathema for some Hallow’s Eve celebrations and Adam had insisted that everyone came in costume. So far, Crowley had gotten away with being vague upon being asked what they’d be, but he wouldn’t be able to do that forever. “Angel, get your ass over here.”

“Language, Crowley.” The angel huffed as he made his way from the back door of the cottage to where the demon was sitting.

“English. Now, we still need to decide what we’re going to dress up as tonight.” He shoved the list in Aziraphale’s direction, looking up at him expectantly. “I’ve made a list, but we have yet to make a decision.”

“Why don’t we just go as each other? We won’t have to buy clothes, won’t have to think _too much_ about it, since we’ve done each other before.” The angel shrugged.

Crowley had trouble holding back a grin at those words, but eventually shook his head. He didn’t want to be a boring swap. “No, no. That’s boring. Really, why would you want to be _me_ for Halloween?”

“Because, my dear, I love you.” Aziraphale booped the demon’s nose, enjoying the blush that spread across the demon’s face. “But you do have a point. What about we dress up as the lead from that show you like so much? The one with the time travelling.”

“You mean Doctor Who? Hmm, I guess we could be the Doctor and the Master.” He glanced up at the angel, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But then you’d have to play the Master, who’s the villain of the tale.”

“Why would I have to—?” The angel took a deep breath, before nodding. “Alright. I’ll be the Master, you’ll be the Doctor. Where will we get the costumes?”

With a flick of his wrist, Crowley made the (custom made) outfits appear on the nearby sofa, gesturing at them for the angel. “There we go. Why don’t you try them out, Angel?”

Aziraphale glanced at the costume, a little hesitantly, but eventually put it on. When he got to the collar, he turned back towards Crowley, sighing softly. “Show me one picture where he’s wearing this, dear, otherwise I will not be wearing this.”

Once again, a sparkle of mischief appeared in Crowley’s eyes, as he got his phone out and showed Aziraphale the exact picture that he’d been trying to recreate. The Specials Doctor and Master did always look quite dashing to him. “There you go, my darling. The exact outfit that you are currently wearing, including the collar.”

The angel sighed deeply, but did put on the collar, like a good boy.[2] “There. Happy now?”

“Over the moon.” Crowley got up again, lazily putting on his own outfit with a demonic manipulation, and sauntering over towards the angel. “Though I almost want to take it all off again.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Aziraphale, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I think we should leave, though. Anathema will be waiting.”

Another sigh escaped the angel, but he did allow the demon to drag him over towards the front door, then the car, and eventually to Lower Tadfield, where they spent a wonderful evening with their friends.

[1] Aziraphale tutted as he saw the list, ran a hand through Crowley’s hair and muttered that the demon really wasn’t a monster, that he was a kind and wonderful soul, if only he’d let himself see that.

[2] Crowley did have to pretend that he didn’t want to pull Aziraphale closer to him by that collar, that he didn’t want to kiss him senseless. Luckily, Crowley had learned to control his impulses over the six thousand years that he’d known Aziraphale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might write an epilogue to have something good. Idk. I'm done with Inktober for a while (:  
Thanks for reading, though!


End file.
